


thanos and jeff goldblum sitting in a tree

by ZestyMelon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Slow Burn, Two Awful Old Men in Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29527047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZestyMelon/pseuds/ZestyMelon
Summary: Thanos is a single dad who moved to New York to reunite with his estranged daughters. The Grandmaster is a coffee shop owner by day who runs an illegal fighting ring by night. They fall in love, and kiss.
Relationships: (past) Loki/En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster, Bruce Banner/Thor, Gamora/Peter Quill, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Thanos/En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster
Kudos: 2





	1. Big Man with a Big Job in the Big City

**Author's Note:**

> big <3<3<3 to my good friends zoey and kelly for inspiring this, and to zoe for beta reading it. everything here is their fault entirely :)

The split-second trill was the only warning Thanos had before he jumped out of the way of the oncoming cyclist. He’d almost lost the sound in the cacophony of jackhammers and car horns and buses coming to a stop that filled the street at all hours, that even made its way up the five stories into his bedroom where he would sometimes try, unsuccessfully, to sleep. Stepping outside had been a slap to the face, and the unrisen sun hadn’t yet had the chance to warm the cold hand of winter. Even at this hour on a Saturday, the streets were full of commuters, whose straight, unwandering gazes matched the morning’s temperature.

Thanos placed his hands in his coat pockets and wondered, not for the first time, what on earth he was doing here. Certainly, he would have never expected to miss DC, a city drenched in the stench of hypocrisy to which he’d always turned up his nose. Still, there was something about those wide avenues lined with monuments that at least tried to insist that you were important, even if all you were doing was running around filling the pockets of politicians who smiled and shook hands and broke promises as easily as breathing.

New York, it seemed, was a city determined to convince you of your own unimportance. Beggar or billionaire, no one was free of the stench of stale garbage that permeated even the nicer areas like this one. Though perhaps that was Thanos’s perception only, a result of his inability (or unwillingness) to carve out a space here for himself. Something that might be easier, had either of his daughters deigned to answer his calls.

The wind shifted west, bringing with it a clear smell, a bracing gift from the Atlantic. If he closed his eyes, Thanos could just imagine the life he truly wanted, far out in the countryside, away from the messy complications of humanity. Instead, he turned his back and headed up the street.

Coffee. That was the first thing. Normally that meant Starbucks, the one between the subway station and his office where a different young person would fail to make eye contact and spell the name “Thandos'' on his mocha-frappacano. But he wasn’t going to the office today. He headed, instead, in the other direction and was surprised to find a shop quite close to his building. The sign out front read, “Sakar: Odds and Ends and Coffee.” He considered walking past it. After all, one was never far from a Starbucks in this city. But something caused him to stop and, in doing so, he felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. He shrugged, deciding the instant caffeine was worth whatever sludge he had to down to get it, opened the door, and ducked out of the cold. 

Inside, the place was less trendy than Thanos had worried. He couldn’t stand young people, so the absence of that typically millennial industrial-chic came as an instant relief. Instead, the place was charmingly retro. Everything from the cushioned diner chairs to the garish wallpaper announced itself in bright 1980s technicolor, though without the usual wear that would have dated it as such. The lights glowed with a soft orange, a hue Thanos had almost forgotten about in this city of oppressive fluorescence.

Two people, a man and a woman, stood behind the counter, chatting while they waited for the morning rush. They were older than Thanos might have expected. Owners, maybe? Husband and wife? The man was intriguing. Handsome, with salt-and-pepper hair, and colorful eyeliner that matched his loudly patterned sweater, worn beneath a golden-yellow apron. 

The woman noticed Thanos staring and made eye contact with him, subtly elbowing her companion into acknowledging their new customer. 

“Oh, hello!” the man said, as if Thanos had made his whole day by walking in. He even waved. “What can I get you?”

Was that nail polish? Thanos could have sworn he caught a flash of turquoise before his hands vanished back behind the counter. He felt keenly for their absence, and then shook himself, feeling silly.

The man was staring at him. Why was he–? Oh. “Uh, mocha. Frappacano. Extra foam, please. Medium.”

Thanos winced. Were his people skills really so rusty? It was his work, surely, and the stress. It was the fact that he hadn’t come here to make friends, and the fact that, despite his best efforts, he hadn’t yet succeeded in reuniting with his daughters. It was most assuredly _not_ those deep brown eyes focused on him. Neither was it that smile, warm yet sly somehow, not hostile but dangerous all the same.

“Well, you heard the man, Topaz. Let’s not keep a valued customer waiting.”

The woman grunted and got to work on his drink as Thanos approached the counter. The man was still looking at him, so Thanos averted his eyes to the muffins they had on display.

He heard a throat clear, and Thanos reluctantly turned back to meet the man’s gaze. “Hm?” 

“I said, are you new around here?” the man repeated. His brown orbs were fixed on Thanos, searching and intimidating. His gaze was like a microscope not yet adjusted properly, but determined to bring Thanos’s fuzzy frame into focus.

“Yes, I… moved here recently.”

No, not a microscope, Thanos realized. The man’s gaze was a spotlight, blocking out everything else around him with its dazzling attention. And Thanos, so used to orchestrating things behind the scenes, felt off balance. Like an actor who’d forgotten his lines.

“I thought so,” the man was saying. “We tend to get the same few faces around here. And, well, yours sticks out. I’m sure I’d remember it if I’d seen it before.”

The man smiled at him.

“I--” Thanos began, but felt a buzz from his pocket. He jumped, thrusting his hand in to retrieve his phone, heart beating a forceful rhythm as he saw the notification. A text. From Gamora.

Thanos turned his back to the counter, nervous about what his face might give away as he swiped to read the message.

_She’s not talking to you. She doesn’t want to see you. You’ve done so much damage, can’t you see that? Whatever it is you think you want, to apologize, to explain, you can keep it to yourself. I hope you carry it with you to the grave, when you die a bitter and lonely old man, sure only of the fact that his children hate him for all the hurt he’s caused._

His hand shook slightly as he put his phone away. This complicated things. He wasn’t expecting a warm welcome, but still he’d hoped… Well, hope was foolish. He’d make his own reality, hope be damned.

“Sir?” It was the woman’s voice this time. Topaz? “Your drink’s ready.”

He turned around, belatedly pulling out his wallet to pay.

“Something wrong?”

Thanos looked into the man’s intense gaze, yet again. “Everything.” Thanos startled himself with his honesty.

The man nodded, as if he expected this. Almost like he understood.

“It can feel that way. This city can eat you up if you let it. But I’ll tell you what, I washed up here one day, no money, no friends, just a head full of passion and a heart full of dreams. I’m made of strong stuff, you see, and this town rewards that.” He tilted his head to the side. “And you, my friend. Well. I think you’re made of strong stuff.”

Thanos could only nod. He picked up his coffee and walked out of the shop, not feeling the cold as he had only moments ago. 

As his steps led him away from “Sakar: Odds and Ends and Coffee,” he was left with one last impression. The man’s gaze was light. Not the sterile light of a microscope, or the demanding light of a spotlight. His gaze was a lantern in a lighthouse, warm and distant, but nevertheless drawing him safely into harbor.


	2. There's No Single Guys in Manhattan!

He’d been at work for three hours already, and he’d spent most (well, all) of that time staring at the espresso machine at the back wall of the shop. The question confronting Jeff Goldblum was this: how was it that the sun, hidden as it was beneath layers of deep gray clouds, could shine with such agonizing intensity that his brain felt like it was going to burst out of his skull? 

He adjusted his sunglasses, which had slipped down the bridge of his nose, and ignored Topaz glaring at him as she continued doing all the work. It couldn’t be that he was hungover. He hadn’t had  _ that _ much to drink last night. Oh god, was he getting old? 

No, no, that couldn’t be it either. It must be Loki, that asshole. They’d gone home together last night, but when Jeff Goldblum rolled over on his bed this morning (2pm still counted as the morning if that’s when you woke up), he’d found it empty. No note, no call to check in with him. The bastard hadn’t even texted. Thus, a headache. 

Disappointment caused headaches, that was something he was pretty sure he’d read online.

The bell at the top of the door jingled, and Jeff Goldblum groaned loudly, wondering why he’d even come in at all today.

“I love the service here. Really makes you feel welcome,” Bruce said, holding the door open as his boyfriend, Thor, joined him inside.

“No, that would be the loan I gave you,” Jeff Goldblum said airily. He still hadn’t turned around. “But if you want me to be nicer, you boys could pay me back now.”

“Uh–”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He craned his neck and saw Thor approaching the counter, headed straight for his usual chocolate chip muffin. “You talk to your brother today?”

“No. I thought he was with you,” Thor said. 

Jeff Goldblum only groaned.

Bruce smiled and asked Topaz for their order, trying as hard as ever to charm the woman as she remained stubbornly unimpressed.

Jeff Goldblum pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his contacts. He started and erased a text several times before landing on:

_ Hey! Fun night! Hope you got home ok, or wherever it was you went 😂 _

He sent it, cursed himself as soon as it marked as delivered, and tried to salvage the rest of his dignity.

_ Anyway! Feel free to stop by Sakar, we’re having another fight tonight. One of the guys has this thing, with his hands, anyway it ends with a broken jaw AND a broken femur! And I’m not explaining it right. Come check it out. If you’re free. Let me know. _

He stared at the next text for a long minute, before adding one last thing. 

_ ;) _

And sent. He stared at the ceiling in utter hopelessness, and then sank to the floor. Some dim part of his brain flickered to Valkyrie. What was she doing? Was she very busy today? Maybe she could pencil in another stop before she clocked out, just do one tiny little murder so Jeff Goldblum could feel safe that no other human who’d read that remained alive.

“Woah, woah, hey! You okay?” Bruce was peering over the counter at him.

“Ymf twarlly moefm nmmommfghgh.”

Bruce and Jeff Goldlbum stared at Thor. He swallowed his muffin.

“I said, why are you still wasting your time with Loki? He’s just a big, y’know, meanie-arseface who won’t call mom back.”

“He’s right,” Topaz grunted, scrubbing the coffee machine with a towel. “He’s shifty. Unreliable. No sort of man to be in a relationship with.”

“Who– Did I ask you?” Jeff Goldblum said.

“You should.”

Jeff Goldblum groaned again and lay spread eagle on the floor.

“She’s right, though,” Thor said as he chomped thoughtfully on his muffin. “I’ve known Loki for many moons, seen him at both his most valiant and most treacherous. He may have his moments, but in the end he serves his own desires, no one else’s.”

“Is this about the time he threw a massive party while your dad was away and blamed you for the mess?” asked Bruce.

“Maybe.” Thor crossed his arms and muttered, “Took me ages to get all those stains out of the carpet…”

“Look, you just need to get out there,” Bruce said as he bent once more over the counter to look at Jeff Goldblum. “Find you someone nice, stable, someone who doesn’t carry knives around on his person at all times!”

Jeff Goldblum snorted.

“Yeah. As if there are any single guys like that in Manhattan.” Jeff Goldblum said. The floor was nice. Cold. Maybe he could live there now. “Is your brother single?”

Bruce pulled a face. “Hulk? I mean– not last I heard, some new model from Austria or Australia or something– besides, he’s my brother. And straight. Maybe dating friends’ brothers isn’t what you should be doing right now?”

Jeff Goldblum whined and rolled away to face the wall.

“What about the guy from yesterday? The sad purple one?”

“Topaaaaaaaaaz…” Jeff Goldblum curled into a fetal position.

“Guy, what guy?” Bruce said, turning to her. “And whattaya mean purple?”

Topaz humphed. “Customer came in yesterday, barely said a word, and this one,” she gestured to Jeff Goldblum with her towel, “hasn’t shut up about him since.”

“Okay, but, purple?”

“I said what I said.”

Jeff Goldblum mumbled some vague threats in her direction. Had he really been so obvious? True, he supposed, the guy from yesterday had been on his mind a lot. He’d swept in like a soft fog over a deep sea, all dark, moody, but calming too, concealing something vast and beautiful. He was so mysterious! Why was he here? What was he after? And why was he purple, was it a condition? 

It didn’t hurt that the guy was a grade-A hunk. But none of that mattered, and he was mad– livid!– at Topaz for bringing it up! He was just a guy. A handsome, intriguing guy, but still just a stranger. In all likelihood, Jeff Goldblum was never going to see him again. He’d be relegated to that same realm of fantasy as Brad Pitt, young Marlon Brando, and Adam Sandler.

“Well come on, Grandmaster, dish! What’s the deal with this guy?” came Bruce’s voice, suddenly so grating that Jeff Goldblum clutched at his head. He sprang to his feet.

“Alright, out,” Jeff Goldblum said, still rubbing his temples.

“What? Oh come on, don’t be like that–” 

But Jeff Goldblum had already walked out from behind the counter and began pushing Bruce out the door, Thor trailing after them like a confused puppy.

Jeff Goldblum gave them both a shove, and slammed the door in their pouting faces. He spun around and faced Topaz.

“You too. Out.”

“What did I do?” she asked, hands raised in surrender.

“Enough. You’ve done enough.”

She shrugged and grabbed her bag. As the door closed behind her, he let a sigh pass out from his lips and felt instantly better, as if the stress of the day had been trapped as a vapor in his lungs and he was finally allowing it out. 

He stood like that, breathing out and in, willing everything to escape him– the hangover, the heartbreak, the hope for something better.

Then he heard a sprinkle of bells, like a sound effect from an old Christmas movie. Like the sound of an angel come to get his wings.

“Sorry,” said a deep voice. “Is this– are you closed?”

Jeff Goldblum turned around slowly. “Oh,” he said. “It’s you.”


End file.
